


Unfamiliar

by Maifai



Series: Could Only Handle So Much [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Family Angst, Family Issues, PTSD, Tarsus IV, Trauma, Unhealthy Relationships, immediately after Tarsus IV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 20:23:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21434173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maifai/pseuds/Maifai
Summary: Winona is reunited with Jim after he's brought back from Tarsus IV.
Series: Could Only Handle So Much [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/707670
Comments: 7
Kudos: 294





	Unfamiliar

The clock on the wall was so loud.

That was all Winona could think as the admiral in front of her explained what her son had been going through for the past year. 

Famine. Genocide. Abuse. Torture. The sort of thing that even the hardest of humans could barely withstand.

Let alone a _ child. _

“Do you understand?” Admiral Renno asked, her brows upturned imploringly.

Winona nodded, even and controlled, while the hollow feeling that had been inside of her ever since George died grew _ heavier. _ “I understand,” she said. “No one is to know that he is one of the Tarsus Nine. No one is to know he was ever there.”

Renno leaned back in her chair, and nodded once. “It’s for the safety of all of them. There was a body recovered from Kodos’s ready room, but it was so far gone that we could not definitively identify it as him. As long as there is any chance that he is still out there, it will be better for everyone if their identities remain unknown.”

It made sense. It would also give James some small sense of privacy, if no one even knew to hound him for information.

Not like they’d already been doing his whole life. Being the Kelvin Baby was enough, he did not have to become known as one of the Tarsus Nine.

Winona wanted to be relieved, but all she felt was numb and cold. Like she’d been submerged in frozen water for far too long. Fourteen years too long.

“I should warn you that… you may not recognize him,” Renno continued. “He is the most closed off among the survivors, at least that I’ve seen. After he was transferred from the recovery ship to the one that would bring him back to Earth, he stopped talking at all. In fact, none of the Nine are talking to each other.” She paused to frown at her hands. “The other Nine will still talk to medical personnel and other officers, though, but James refuses to interact at all.” 

This whole thing would probably exacerbate his issues with authority. She almost couldn’t blame him.

Winona briefly considered waving away Renno’s concern, explain to her that she and Jim rarely interacted as it was, but she remembered dully that that wasn’t exactly a good thing.

Would Jim even be comforted by seeing her?

In a quiet tone, Renno added, “He’s the only one of the survivors that hasn’t cried. Not in relief, not in grief. You may want to get him started on mental health treatment as soon as possible.”

Winona nodded. Renno was probably hoping that being home, being with family, would help Jim’s emotional health. 

There was no way to explain that he always kept to himself, especially when it came to her or Frank.

Faintly, she reminded herself that he hadn’t always been like that. When he was little, before he really started going to school, he would try to engage her all the time. He would talk to her, check in on her, tell stories about his toys, be as emotionally available and vulnerable as any five year old could.

Winona was still so raw the first few years after his birth, she could never bring herself to talk to him for long. Sometimes she couldn’t even look at him.

It took a few more years of ignoring him before he stopped trying for the same affection and attention that was easier to give Sam.

Maybe… if she had been stronger, if she had been able to see _ Jim _ and not _ George _, he never would have driven that car off of that cliff. Would never have needed to be sent off world. 

Renno stood from her desk, and Winona reflexively rose as well. “There’s a room down the hall where the two of you can be reunited. I’ll take you there now.”

Winona followed without another word. 

She wasn’t sure what to expect, or what she would say to him.

What _ could _ she say?

Nevermind _ Tarsus. _ His aunt was dead. His _ brother _ was dead.

As soon as she found out that Jim was alive, she requested that whoever he was with be the ones to tell him his older brother had overdosed only a week prior. There was no way she would have been able to be the one to do it.

Even now, she couldn’t accept that her Johnny was...

Her Sam.

_ Junior. _

She huffed softly to herself as the door closed behind Renno, thinking about George Jr.’s name. There had always been a lot of fuss over what to call him. He was fine being Junior when his dad was alive, but after-- …After, _ Johnny _ became a nickname for _ Junior. _

None of them were able to stomach any reminder of George. It was just as hard for Sam as it had been for her.

It had been Jim’s idea to refer to his brother by his middle name, but Jim and Winona were really the only ones that called him Sam. Everyone else called him Johnny. Jim would sometimes call him that when he was teasing him, back when they were younger.

Back when she wouldn’t spend time with them, and was rarely in the same room.

Thoughts of her sons quickly spiraled into deep, dark depths that she didn’t want to go to. She blinked herself out of her mind and back into the moment. She _ had _ to be present for this.

Winona was alone in a crisp, clean, impersonal room. Uncomfortable looking couches sat against two walls. They looked like they belonged in a dentist’s office.

She sat down slowly, not quite registering what she was doing until she was no longer standing. She just felt… so unsteady. Not completely there.

Her sister was dead. Her _ son _ was dead.

George Jr. Samuel Kirk, dead before he was even really a man. Dead like his father. 

Now here she was waiting to be in the same room as her last living family member--her _ only _ son left.

Her fingers, cold and stiff, closed around her knees. 

Some days she wondered if she was cursed. If she was doomed to never be allowed to love anyone. If she ever did, they always died.

Or, in Jim’s case… what he got was worse than death.

The worst part was, she couldn’t even say that she regretted sending him to the colony. It had been so good for him, at first.

Her sister was a much better guardian than Frank or Winona had ever been. 

Heather would sometimes send her videos of Jim, or put him on call. 

She’d never seen him so relaxed and happy before. He looked like he was having the experiences that a kid was supposed to have.

He had acted like a child that felt loved.

He had smiled in a way she’d never seen, and part of her was glad she’d never seen it. It looked so much like George it made her feel ill.

Now… she wondered if he would ever be able to smile like that again. After what he’d been through, chances were extremely low.

Distantly, she hoped that Jim didn’t have to watch Heather die. But knowing his luck, he probably did.

She didn’t want to deal with this. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to try being a mother for someone so in need of care and comfort.

She’d never been a good mother as it was, especially when it came to Jim. She didn’t want to be responsible for dealing with him after all of this, she would probably just ruin him more.

George would be so disappointed in her.

She reminded herself not to care. Not to feel.

She just wanted to go back to space, back to her ship, back to her job. The burning need to lose herself in work, to not have to confront her life, was _ overwhelming. _

_ She wanted to run. So badly, she wanted to just run away. _

She could hear footsteps coming from down the hall and a wave of _ nothing _washed over her, smoothing her features and relaxing her muscles.

The numbness was a safe and old companion, and she was readily leaning into it.

The door slid open softly, immediately revealing Renno and a medical officer that was exuding a gentle tiredness. They definitely looked like someone that had been working with traumatized survivors of a genocide.

They both stepped aside, and between them stood Jim.

Nothing about him was familiar.

He was taller than when she’d last seen him. He was nine last time he was on Earth, and he’d become a fourteen year old when she wasn’t looking. He was gaunt, his features sunken in and his cheeks hollow. A paleness so unnatural for the rural farm boy replaced the tan she remembered. It was obvious he’d lost his baby fat, but in addition to that did he lose all the other weight that a kid his age was supposed to have.

He was beyond emaciated. He was mostly just skin and bone, covered in bandages and wrappings that belied physical damage she didn’t dare think about.

And his eyes…

His eyes were one thing that had always been purely Jim’s. Always so pure and so blue, so earnest and innocent.

Now they were shaded empty, frigid and unseeing, aged years beyond the face they were placed in.

Winona did not recognize Jim at all.

The teenager that stood before her was nothing like the boy she knew and neglected. The person in front of her had been abused beyond recognition, and some horrible, painful part of her was glad to see that there were no traces of George left in him.

“We’ll leave you to it,” Renno said, as Jim was ushered inside and the door closed to leave him alone with Winona.

For a few long seconds, all they did was stare at each other.

_ You have to acknowledge him, _ she reminded herself.

But she didn’t know what to say. What to do. 

What did he need? Would he even hear her if she said anything? 

She stood slowly, and noted that he didn’t flinch at her movement or the unbearably loud sound of her clothes shifting. He did tense, however.

Did he think she was going to hit him? A sour taste coiled around her throat at the thought, and she approached him carefully.

She didn’t know what he needed. She’d never been good at this. 

Winona could hardly face her own demons, she had no idea how she was supposed to help someone else with theirs.

There was only one thing she could think of that might bring him comfort. One thing she knew he’d always wanted, and the one thing he deserved more than anything else at the moment.

She knelt in front of him, bringing her eye level just a little below his own, and drew her arms up around his shoulders to hold him close.

It was like hugging a metal pole, stiff and unyielding, and she had to keep herself still. Keep herself from pulling back like her instincts were telling her to. 

After everything he’d gone through, he deserved to be held, deserved to be comforted. She knew she wasn’t very good at it, but an attempt was better than nothing. And for the last of her family, she was more than willing to make an attempt.

The change came slowly, like a glacier through ice water, but she could feel the tension seep from his body. He leaned forward, just barely, to place his cheek on her shoulder. 

Other than to get a firmer grasp around his frail body, she held still.

His breathing changed. It grew heavier, and a little faster, and it took her a moment to notice the dampness on her shoulder.

He was crying. 

She resituated her hands against his back, to ground him just a little bit more.

He pressed more of his face against her shoulder, and brought bandaged hands to grasp at the back of her shirt. His breathing was becoming more choked, more unsteady.

She closed her eyes when he began to whimper, a clear indication that his walls were coming down to let him cry in his mother’s arms.

Her chest ached at the sound. His ruined, trembling voice was so young. So vulnerable. His shoulders were quaking with quiet sobs, and the hold he had on her became more desperate with every second. 

Knowing that he needed the reassurance but not confident in her ability to give it, she decided she wouldn’t say anything to him and instead rely on tactile comfort. Jim had always responded more to touch than words, anyway. And in all honesty there really _ wasn’t _ anything that she could say to him.

His aunt was dead, his brother was dead, any friends he’d made on the colony were dead. He watched people die, he himself was tortured, and he was thrown back into the care of a mother and step-father that had never been there for him. 

An already broken boy had been shattered beyond repair, and Winona was more than willing to let him fall apart in her arms.

The urge to run was still festering behind Winona’s ribcage, but for Jim, she was going to keep it down for as long as she could. For Jim, she would try.

He deserved that much.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll edit this after class, so sorry if it's messy!
> 
> I know this isn't my usual type of fic, and I'm sorry this isn't an update to any of my current star trek fics, but I could NOT get this idea out of my head. It was fun exploring Winona's personality, my take on her is extremely complicated and kind of hard to get across XD
> 
> I hope that I was somewhat successful!
> 
> Also, sorry I haven’t updated lately. Things have been hard. The anniversary of the camp fire was last week


End file.
